


The Boy Across The Balcony

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Bottoming from the Top, M/M, Physical Abuse, Teen John Watson, Teen Sherlock, The plot snuck in, Top John Watson, Virgin Sherlock, started as a pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: John's family is a mess, but a mysterious boy moves in next door who John can't help but be fascinated with, despite knowing his father's opinions.





	The Boy Across The Balcony

**Author's Note:**

> I actually got the balcony idea when I went to my sister's house. The neighbours share a balcony, only separated by a horizontal, old, metal pole.

The Boy Across The Balcony

  
  


John Watson did not have an easy life. In the flat, where he lived with his mother, his father, and his sister Harry, there were a strict set of rules his father had created for him and his sister. No telly after nine, curfew at eight, no dating, no extra curricular activities unless they were entirely educational, and the list would go on. John’s father was a strict man, relentless in his opinions. 

Now, he and his sister were on break for the summer and since John didn’t have many friends, he spent his time on the balcony, his world away from his reality.

“Hey,” Harry knocked on the balcony doorway, pulling John’s attention from his thoughts and the medical text he was supposed to be reading. “Look,” she nodded towards the railing. John followed her gaze and saw a moving truck pull up next to the building.

John groaned inwardly. There was an apartment across from them, yet they shared an entire balcony with a horizontal railing separating the two for space. They’d had many neighbours and all of them had moved out due to noise complaints. This family would be no different. John looked over the railing and saw two people get out of the truck, obviously the parents as two younger boys climbed out of the truck. John couldn’t see much, but the two brother’s body language screamed sibling rivalry. 

“How long do you think they’ll last?” Harry inquired.

“No idea,” John sighed.

***

Quite surprisingly, John found this new family to be just as loud as they were, although not in the same way. It was very easy to hear through these walls and all John knew was that whichever brother was Sherlock and whichever brother was Mycroft fought...extensively. One night, surprisingly, one of the brothers brought himself to the balcony, huffing something about ignorance and illogical people with small brains. John had to say, he found the boy absolutely fascinating. He was tall, pale, a head full of raven coloured curls that John imagined, wondered, how it would would feel to run his fingers through those curls. 

Sometimes, the boy would play violin and he was breathtakingly good at it. Somehow, they managed to never say a word to each other, yet enjoyed each other’s company for hours on end, especially on those long summer evenings 

John wondered what it would be like if he talked to him, told the boy how he felt... _ kissed  _ him.

Of course, John could never voice that; his father would kill him, so he continued to read away, studying for a way out.

***

His fears were confirmed perhaps a month after their new neighbours had moved in. John was sitting on the balcony, when he heard the door slam inside of his house. He shot up, almost scared, then he heard screaming. John rushed inside and saw his father standing over Harry. His mother stood off in a corner, her arms crossed.

“No daughter of mine is going to be attracted to other women!” he nearly screamed in her face, his ears red, his face showing only hatred.

“Well, then I guess I’m not your bloody daughter!” Harry lashed out, tears filling her eyes. John heard the slap before he fully registered it. It seemed so surreal, like one of those things you see in a show where the person’s face immediately goes in the direction of the person’s hand, obviously acted out.

But, this wasn’t a show.

John immediately rushed to Harry, but she pulled away, her face now turning red, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she swiftly left out the front door. John tried to follow, but his father immediately stood in the way.

“Are you trying to go next?” his father asked coldly.

John didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to go back onto the balcony, looking down in hopes that he’d see Harry, but she was already gone. He kept looking as if, somehow, she would reappear.

She didn’t.

***

John wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been out there when he awoke to find a tall silhouette across the balcony.

“Oh,” John breathed upon seeing the raven haired boy leaning over the railing, a cigarette cushioned between pink lips. “Hey.”

The boy gave John a sideways glance and abruptly shot up, exhaling smoke. “Sorry. Something I do when….no one’s home.”

“No, it’s...fine,” John nodded slowly, the image of the boy still etched into his mind. Seeing the boy face to face was even more overwhelming than John originally thought. Up close, even in the dark, John could tell the boy’s eyes were a mixture of green, blue, and grey. His cheekbones were sharp, giving his face a defined structure. But the thing John found most breathtaking were the boy’s cupid bow lips—pouty and pink and perfect.

“Thanks,” the boy murmured, taking another long and slow drag that involuntarily made John’s cock twitch.

To distract himself from that embarrassment, he leaned against his side of the balcony. “I’m John, by the way.”

“Sherlock,” the boy said with a nod upon exhalation. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John stopped at that. “Sorry, what?”

Sherlock smirked. “Afghanistan...or Iraq?”

“I…” John trailed off. “Afghanistan. But, how—”

Sherlock quickly interrupted him. “You’re wearing dog tags around your neck—you never remove them, actually—even though it’s giving you a rash just...there,” Sherlock pointed with the cigarette still between his long fingers, but John could only focus on Sherlock’s words, taking him apart, piece by piece as if examining him. “I’ve seen you running early in the morning. Sometimes, you sit out here with medical texts ranging from an array of subjects which means you’re interested in medicine. Army doctor.”

John gaped at him. “That...was amazing.”

It was Sherlock’s turn to stop. “Y...you really think so?”

“Yeah,” John grinned. “Absolutely fantastic.”

“That’s not what people normally say,” Sherlock muttered, taking another drag.

“What do people normally say?” John inquired.

Sherlock exhaled a lungful of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips as he did. His eyes rose to John’s in amusement. “Piss off,”

John laughed at that and Sherlock smiled fondly in John’s direction. “Sorry about your parents, by the way...and your sister,” Sherlock added in which caused John’s laughter to fade.

“I’m sure all of the neighbours can hear their bickering.” John commented, looking down at the street below. “You’re not our first next door neighbours. People always complain about the noise.”

“If you could live anywhere, where would you go?” Sherlock inquired, interested.

“Probably the country. I’ve heard Sussex is lovely this time of year.”

That made Sherlock smile. “Me too,” he nodded slowly. “I’m quite fond of bees.”

“Really?” John wondered aloud. “Maybe you could teach me about them,”

Sherlock eyed him for a long moment and took another drag of his cigarette, his gaze never leaving John’s as he exhaled. “Maybe,” Sherlock smirked, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. John’s eyes followed the movement, breathless.

When John’s eyes traveled back to the street below, all he could think of was his father slamming the door in Harry’s face.

“Harry is your sister.” Sherlock stated, but it wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” John answered anyway.

“Your sister has a girlfriend.” Sherlock was now also looking down at the ground.

“Yes,” John nodded.

“Your father is a homophobe.”

“Yeah,” John whispered, feeling his heart clench. It was difficult saying and hearing aloud, but it was necessary; it was true. Sherlock sat up and John’s eyes followed.

“You can stay here tonight, if you’d like,” Sherlock murmured softly, his eyes gazing back at John. “My parents won’t be here for the weekend and my brother Mycroft leaves every chance he gets.”

“Thanks,” John tried to hold back the tears that threatened to come, but he couldn’t. Sherlock crossed the bar to reach John.

“It’s okay,” Sherlock whispered, pulling John into his arms.

John shook his head, his tears falling freely. “It’s not,” he whispered. “It’s not okay.”

“No,” Sherlock said honestly, his hand began to rub John’s back comfortingly as he buried his face into John’s hair. “But it is what it is.”

“They just put her out,” John whispered. “What happens when they do the same to me?” It occurred to John only later that he’d come out as gay to Sherlock. 

“Well,” Sherlock sighed softly, his hand still gently rubbing John’s back. “I know of a flat in central London. Perhaps we could both afford it...if you’d be amenable.”

John pulled back to look up at Sherlock in shock. “We barely even know each other and you want to go and look at a flat together?”

“That’s precisely what I want to do,” Sherlock smirked. “Problem?”

John could see none. He shook his head, speechless.

“Then, let’s go inside, John. It’s getting rather cold out.”

***

 

Sherlock’s flat was a duplicate of his own, only filled with different furniture. It was much more warm, John noted, and easy to call home. “Come on,” Sherlock said, leading John down the hall. He led John to his bedroom, opening the door for them both. Sherlock’s room was very... _ Sherlock _ . Books and papers were scattered everywhere and screamed of a man whose thoughts were all over the place, yet John was sure that whatever Sherlock needed to find in the mess of papers and books, he’d find with ease.

Sherlock sat at the end of his bed which was somewhat made and pointed at the dresser by the window. “You should be able to find pajamas in there since you don’t have any,” suddenly Sherlock got up. “You can take the bed, I’ll get some covers to sleep on the floor.”

John looked up at Sherlock, surprised. “The bed can fit the both of us.”

Sherlock stopped, looking amused and surprised. “So it can,” he smirked. “Let’s get ready for bed, then.”

John could feel a sort of odd anticipation thrumming beneath his skin, through his veins, as he dressed for bed  in the bathroom. Something within him just wanted to kiss Sherlock, to see how the boy’s lips fit against his. When he let himself back into Sherlock’s room, he found the boy dressed in an old, ratty t-shirt and a pair of boxers that hung too low on his already slim hips.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Sherlock inquired.

“Um, no,” John answered, setting his folded clothes down on Sherlock’s dresser. 

“We have leftover curry. Well,  _ I  _ do. Mycroft can’t stand it. Care to eat?” Sherlock asked, heading for the door, waiting for John to follow.

“Sure,” John said, letting Sherlock lead the way.

***

 

Somehow, the pair ended up on the sofa, watching an old film, and eating curry. John would look at Sherlock from the corner of his eye and he could see that the boy was falling asleep.

“Did you want to go to bed?” John finally asked.

Sherlock shot up softly, his eyes opened. “Are you still eating?”

“Finished,” John showed his plate and Sherlock smiled.

“Okay,” Sherlock yawned. “Let’s go to bed.”

When they got back into Sherlock’s room, Sherlock pulled back the blanket and climbed in, leaving room for John to climb in afterwards. John pulled the blanket up around them, enjoying Sherlock’s body heat.

Eventually, the air grew quiet, but John was too wired to sleep. He tried to turn, to get comfortable, to no avail. At some point, he was sure Sherlock had gone to sleep, but he was surprised when the boy suddenly spoke into the darkness of the room.

“John?” it was soft and low and still made John shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Would you ever...date someone like me?”

John frowned at Sherlock’s use of words. “...‘ _ Someone _ ’?”

“Well, at school, the students would call me a freak, and I was wondering—” Sherlock began, but John cut him off by abruptly turning to face Sherlock.

“Those  _ kids  _ don’t know anything, Sherlock. You’re not a freak. You are brilliant and of course I  would—” John was cut off as his arms were suddenly full of Sherlock who’d pulled him into a kiss. He gasped into Sherlock’s mouth, unconsciously pulling the boy over him. The blanket was pushed back, away, and forgotten, as their kissing became desperate. John noted the softness of Sherlock’s lips and how he could kiss the boy forever, even if that meant lack of much needed oxygen. John gripped Sherlock’s thighs, letting his boxer clad erection brush Sherlock’s causing the boy to moan into his mouth. He did it again, specifically for the boy’s reaction and relished in the deep groan he elicited from Sherlock.

“John,” Sherlock breathed. “There's lube under my pillow.”

       John rushed to grab the tube and their actions afterwards were rushed as John pushed Sherlock's pants down, releasing his cock which was hard and nearing purple. John's cock gave a sympathetic twitch and as he poured lube onto the palm of his hand, Sherlock swiftly removed him from his pants. John took them both into his hand and Sherlock released a groan, thrusting up into John's hand.

       “Fuck,” it was all John could bare to manage as he watched Sherlock above, his hips moving sensuously, his lips parted as he released sounds that seemingly echoed through John's head, causing him to leak between them.

_ "Yes _ ,” Sherlock gasped, reaching down for John's free hand. “John, fuck me.”

       John's hips stuttered to a stop, his eyes opened in shock. “What? Are you sure?”

       “I've been seeing you, watching me. Waiting. Too afraid to say anything and now that I have you here, there's nothing I want more.” Sherlock said imploringly.

       “Have you ever…?” John trailed off as Sherlock shook his head. He looked at the boy above him for a long time and began to slowly nod. “Yeah. Okay. Budge up.”

       Sherlock rose onto his knees, his chest rising and falling with heavy pants. John lubed up his fingers, sitting up to reach behind Sherlock, letting his fingers circle his hole, watching the boy's face closely.

       Sherlock's teeth sank into his plump bottom lip as John slowly sank his index finger into the warmth of him. Sherlock gasped above him. 

       “Alright?” John wondered, looking at Sherlock's flushed face as he sank his finger inside of him. Sherlock nodded, breathless.

       “Another, John,” Sherlock moaned and John conceded, slowly pushing his middle finger alongside his index, scissoring and spreading his fingers to open Sherlock further. Very slowly, John brushed his prostate, causing Sherlock's hips to buck.

_ "Fuck," _ Sherlock cried out, looking at John in shock.

       John smirked up at Sherlock. “Studying to be an army doctor has its perks.”

       Grinning, Sherlock kissed John deeply and hungrily, their tongues meeting, battling for dominance. John eased a third finger into the boy, feeling Sherlock shudder against him.

      John sank his fingers into Sherlock, spreading them as far as they would go, Sherlock's hips thrusting back against his fingers. 

       “John,  _ John," _ Sherlock gasped, “I'm ready. Please.”

       “Okay,” John murmured, removing his fingers. Sherlock grabbed the lube and poured a generous amount into his palm, covering the length of John's cock, causing him to shiver.

       When John was coated, Sherlock slowly sank down onto John's length.

_ "Oh," _ Sherlock moaned, his eyes clouding over.

_ "Fuck," _ John growled lowly, his hands easily finding Sherlock's hips. Experimentally, John thrust upwards, watching as Sherlock’s raven head of curls fell back, his long pale throat constricting as he released a string expletives. John ground Sherlock’s hips against his, the feeling of his cock being wrapped by a velvet warmth that John knew he wasn’t going to last very long within. It was too much, having Sherlock wrapped around him.

Sherlock, finally coming back to himself, wrapped his arms around John’s neck and began to use John as leverage to lift himself up and sink down onto John.

_ "John," _ Sherlock gasped, almost in wonder as he pressed his sweat soaked curls against John’s forehead. John took the opportunity to kiss him, moaning as Sherlock rolled his hips faster, finding their rhythm. John thrust up, meeting Sherlock’s every move. It wasn’t until John tilted his hips that Sherlock quickly broke their kiss to cry out as John was now pressed directly against his prostate. 

John watched hungrily as Sherlock’s cock, which was now leaking, was verging on the colour purple. He reached down between them and wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock released a very violent jolt at the dual sensation of his prostate being thrust against and John’s hand wrapped around him. He leaked more precum, his thighs trembling as his lips found John’s again.

“I’m…” Sherlock gasped.

“I know,” John murmured, his teeth dragging along Sherlock’s plump bottom lip, eliciting a shiver. “Come for me, Sherlock. Let me see you.”

Sherlock’s hips stuttered and his head flew back as he released a loud cry, nearly wailing as his cock spilled between him and John. John’s thrusts against Sherlock’s prostate didn’t stop and watching the boy above him come undone completely did John in. He followed right after, warmth spreading through him, down his spine, through his bollocks as he released, filling Sherlock in the most intense orgasm he’d ever had in his life.

Sherlock was still panting heavily when John came back to his senses. He was staring at the ceiling, unseeing, his brain somewhere else entirely. John let his fingers drift down the pale expanse of Sherlock’s neck and, within seconds, that brought the boy back to him.

Even though Sherlock’s eyes were still cloudy and unfocused, they were bright and elated. He kissed John sweetly, threading his fingers through John’s hair.

“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered. 

“Anytime,” John giggled, causing Sherlock to laugh. “We should clean up.”

“No, I want to stay right here,” Sherlock muttered, almost petulantly as he wrapped himself around John.

John chuckled. “We’re going to be sticky. Come on.”

With a reluctant nod, Sherlock slowly pulled himself off of John’s now soft and sated cock. They went into the bathroom, turning on the shower, climbing in together.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! If you did, please let me know what your favourite part or line was, I'd love to hear it. All feedback is important to me. 
> 
> If there are any misspelled words or missing words, please let me know and I'll fix them asap.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: consulting-writer@tumblr.com (If you want to have a chat)
> 
> Have a lovely day!


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